Southwestern Days & Southwestern Nights #1

Son,

Oh yeah. I downsized.

     As I sit here on the threshold of the rest of your life, I can't help but to reminisce-- to remember the little boy who grew into the man you have become. Even as a little boy, you were mature. You seemed to have always seen five years into your future and made sense of it.

     At four years old, you knew to have your brother lie down on the floor so that you could place your hands on his tummy and pray for his tummy ache. A while later that year, you came into our kitchen and pointedly told me that you no longer needed the allergy shots that you had been taking for almost two years. I wanted to play along, so I asked you how come. You looked up at me, squared your shoulders, and said, "God told me I was healed." You never again had an allergy shot.

     Son, you were my sounding board, and your endurance, without complaint, healed my spirit. You never gave your opinion without permission. Your early days were composed of songs, dance, and laughter. I always thought of you  as funny. Looking back, you colored your world with laughter.

     I am anxious to see your family, but they can wait. Enjoy this new chapter in your life. I'll always be here with your father, side by side. We'll be here for you. I love you, Joseph. Get set, ready, GO!

Love,

Said "dinky" microwave.

Mom

This is the letter of blessing that my parents gave to me. It's the first two pages of a journal that I plan to fill. I could fill this first "SAGU" post with the in's and out's of university life, but why? That can wait for the next post. My parents are a source of godly strength and wise counsel. My heart aches when I think about being away from them.

However, I take comfort in the Lord. There is nothing as reassuring as being confident that I'm right where the Lord wants me to be. Sitting here, on this twin bed, I look around my dorm room. There's a dinky microwave with the diet cokes I bought sitting on top, my desk with my keyboards, and my clothes stuffed in a closet that will most likely proof to be to small. But there's something else here too-- the Spirit of the Lord. It's like His hand is over my heart.



'Ole Faithful in her new home.



I feel like crying right now, but I feel like that would break the divinity of this moment. I'm drawn to Genesis. (How poignant?) "Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters" (Genesis 1:1). I don't know what my future holds. It seems obscure and confusing. I'm very tempted to panic. . . and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.

This song, "Hymn", by Brooke Fraser has been pretty spot on as to how I'm feeling. Give it a listen. Be silent. Worship. Trust me, it'll be fun.